


Arrangements

by latitans, littlelostsock



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Gender Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latitans/pseuds/latitans, https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelostsock/pseuds/littlelostsock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor is married to a young Jotun. Thor comes to see the trembling child that stood next to him at their wedding as a younger brother, and tries desperately to ignore that they must become something else once this child has grown.</p><p>Based off <a href="http://marty-mc.tumblr.com/post/49247003674/mynerdcave-kind-of-requested-young-jotun-loki">marty-mc</a>’s art and the <a href="http://littlelostsock.tumblr.com/post/49267063587/kimmsauce-lokisergi-marty-mc">notes that followed</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrangements

Thor sighs. He doesn’t want this, but it is his duty. He has known this without needing to be told, just as he knows so many of the things he is expected to do as heir to the throne. He shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable even in the finest silks the realms have to offer.

He stands before his father, who is seated on Hlidskjalf while watching the great doors behind them placidly. His mother stands to one side on its steps, giving Thor a small, sympathetic smile. The wedding is happening sooner than anyone had expected; other suitors were making their desires known to the thrones of Asgard and Jotunheim, and both parties thought it wise to officially marry their realms together in peace before either side could question their decision. Thor doesn’t mind; he is young yet to have sweethearts, really, and he thinks perhaps it is better this way.

He feels the change in the air as the doors open silently on magical hinges, but Thor looks straight ahead and takes a deep breath. He is to be married to a frost giant, a horrible brute twice his size. He doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to know. He only wants to do his duty.

His father stands to greet the giants who enter and come to stand behind him, and he feels a small presence come to rest by his side. He looks over -- and down; it is a child, his tiny horns barely coming up to Thor’s shoulder. He is smaller than the jotun children he has had the chance to see, and this one has long black hair spilling down his back, small plaits peeking through here and there. Some kind of halfling, then?

Thor looks closer, one eyebrow cocked in curiosity and disbelief. The child is draped in gold, a line of coins strung between his horns and his wrists covered in golden bracelets. They hide delicate lines tracing across blue skin. The child has deep red paint across his deep red eyes, and the shade matches the loincloth he wears.

And he is trembling, Thor notices with a start. The young thing is trying desperately to hide his shaking, except he’s covered in gold that jangles and chimes with every shiver. His small hands are held straight down at his side, but they pull nervously at his cape in small movements as if he wants to hide within it.

Despite this, the youth keeps his back straight and his chin up. The stance keeps his horns high, giving him a semblance of height he does not truly posses. His eyes dart around curiously, taking in the large room, falling once on Thor but looking away quickly. Thor sees the fear hiding behind that strong outward appearance.

Thor’s heart melts instantly. He wants to reach out and protect this small thing beside him that is trying so desperately to be brave: he wants to save him from this fate. But he _is_ this child’s fate, and nothing he could do would change that.

The wedding goes quickly, with little but cold ceremony. There are recitations of Thor’s lineage, and his bride’s, and long speeches as required in such circumstances. It is not Thor’s forte, and he lets his mind drift, turning his attention instead to the reactions of the silent form next to him. As their hands are tied together with soft ribbon, the child flinches at the touch of Thor’s hand; his skin is cool, but soft, and Thor discovers that the lines there are raised up from the child’s skin. Piece by piece, the child removes his gold, and hands it over as his dowry. As it all comes to completion, Frigga walks down the steps and presses something into the child’s hands, an offering from one queen to another; Thor doesn’t see what it is, but in that moment, Frigga smiles at the child openly, and Thor is struck by the child’s toothy grin and big eyes as he accepts the gift.

It is only after that Thor realizes: so many foreign words had been thrown around, names and places he had little concern for, that he didn’t even know his bride’s name.

\--

“He is but a child, mother! He was terrified!” Thor’s face is red with rage as he bursts into his mother’s chambers. With the wedding over and the child -- his _spouse_ , Thor thinks with a shudder -- whisked back home on the Bifrost, Thor can finally set his temper free without fearing he will scare the child.

His mother turns to face him slowly, unperturbed by Thor’s tantrums as she has always been. She regards him for a moment, formulating her answer, making Thor come to a halt and wait in front of her. “Yes, she is. But a century from now, you will still be young and she will be a blossoming adult, ready to join the court and bear your children,” Frigga says. Her voice was even and almost quiet, but Thor hears the chastisement and bows his head in guilt. He tries to stop his hands from clenching under his cloak, breathing deeply before he looks up at his mother again, brow furrowing.

She takes both his hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze, catching his gaze and holding it. “I suggest,” she says soothingly, “That you spend this time getting to know your princess.”

\--

His first time visiting Jotunheim, Thor is worried. It is not too long after the wedding, a few years at most, and they meet with formality. The child is quiet, but at least Thor gets a name: Loki; a nickname, he thinks, for he doesn’t remember it from the wedding, but it matters little. The next visit goes this way as well, and Thor is disheartened, but will not give up.

It is the third visit, he thinks, when Loki asks him in a quiet voice to describe Asgard. Thor describes it, from the soaring towers of Valaskjalf to the great waterfalls and forests surrounding his golden city. Loki’s eyes are wide, his mouth falling slightly open; in his haste, Thor thinks, the boy did not get to see much of the city. When Loki does not ask him to stop, Thor continues, talking about his friends, his family, his adventures, smiling all the while.

He spends a week there, talking to Loki. When Thor finally stops to take a breath, suddenly at a loss of any aspect he could possibly continue with, Loki gets up. He closes the space between them and places his hand on Thor’s, looking him in the eye. “Thank you,” he says softly. He looks unsure, but continues, as if lost in thought: “You have Queen Frigga’s smile.” And Loki removes his hand suddenly, taking a step away.

\--

The times after that go easier.

One day, Thor asks Loki what living in Jotunheim is like; Loki's face lights up. He grins at Thor and says that if he doesn’t tell anyone, Loki will take him on a tour. Thor agrees, thrilled by the smirk on Loki’s face as he takes Thor by the hand and leads him through shadowy corridors of ice. Loki’s rooms are fine enough, and big, but somehow lonely. He has few possessions of his own: a well-loved blanket on his bed, a few books with cracked spines on his bookshelf. A replica of the Bifrost, made of crystals in every color and small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, holds a prominent place on Loki’s bedside table.

When Thor inquires about Loki’s friends, the youth says nothing, waiting only a breath before suggesting they go elsewhere. Thor makes a mental note, then, to come to Jotunheim as often as he can.

\--

He likes spending time with Loki. They have taken to wandering almost every time Thor visits, now. He isn’t sure if he is supposed to sneak around the snowy citadel, but they have yet to be stopped; whether the giants are used to ignoring Loki or the child has some invisibility spell, Thor neither knows nor cares. Often they slip outside and play in the snow.

It is like having a little brother, Thor muses, someone he can play with and give advice to and protect. He briefly wonders if this will be awkward, when they are expected to finally fulfill their connubial duties. Would it be strange to bed someone he saw as brother? But he lets these cares be swept away by the Jotunheim wind every time he sees Loki smile. It seems to comfort Loki, whatever it is they are becoming, and that means more to Thor than anything else.

He brings Loki trinkets to go with his tiny Bifrost, first from Asgard, then from his adventures in other realms. Weapons, musical instruments, black snakes and green owls. Thor learns of Loki’s voracious appetite for books, far beyond those on his bookshelf; Thor brings Loki every tome he finds on his travels for years after. Soon Loki’s rooms are full of the presents, sprawled across every surface. Thor sits among them, in front of the fireplace, while Loki reads to him.

\--

They lie in the snow of Jotunheim, catching their breath after a snowball fight turned into an invasion on Thor’s snowbank and quickly became a wrestling match. Thor is amazed at how strong Loki has gotten, and big, in the years since they met. He grew while Thor watched but did not see. Already, he was nearly as tall as Thor, and becoming a strapping young man.

Loki breaks the easy silence first. “How do you see me? What... _gender_ would you have me be?” he asks, the word sounding foreign on his tongue.

Thor looks over, but Loki is staring at the sky, his face blank. Thor is distracted, watching long blue fingers play with a long plait of dark hair carelessly, pulling it through black-painted nails. He hadn’t thought about it much at all; in fact, he has been trying to forget about the technicalities of their relationship and what they are expected to be in the future.

“I think of you as a brother,” Thor offers.

“So as a man, then,” Loki assumes.

“I suppose, yes.”

“But will I not be expected to one day bear your children? Can a man carry a child?”

“No, of course not.” Thor’s brow furrows. “Where are you going with this, brother?”

“I have read about your Asgard; women are not held in as high regard as men. Yet women hold the power to create life, that men do not posses. Is it a shameful thing, to carry children?”

Thor squirms. Loki continues, “You will be dependent on _me_ for your heirs. Does that not make me at least your equal?”

“Brother, it’s not --”

Loki turns to look at him then, and Thor sees irritation in his eyes. “So what sets me apart from women, then? If you think of me as a man, I must be above them. Yet wouldn’t Lady Sif beat me in combat? Wouldn’t I bend to any demands Queen Frigga could make of me?”

Thor falters, trying to get a word in, and finds himself utterly at a loss for what to say. He manages, “But -- it’s not the same.”

Loki stands up angrily. “And _I_ am not the same. I will not be defined by your genders, for I am both. I am Loki, and I am Jotun, and you will do well to remember that.” He turns on his heel and walks away.

Thor stands and reaches for Loki’s arm, turning Loki to face him. “My language was not made for Jotun, do not hold that against me. And my people are not as kind to women as they should be, but one day we will be in the position to try to make amends.” He sighs, releasing Loki and standing with his hands at his sides, feeling forlorn. “Loki, know this: I’ll take you as you are and call you what you choose, only tell me what that is. Let any who challenge that come through me.”

Loki grins, almost against his will, apparently satisfied. He pounces on Thor, purring happily in fits as he continues their wrestling match.

\--

Loki wrestles Thor to the floor, grinning down in triumph. They are too old for this now. The wrestling is more a joke than anything; Thor has more raw power, but Loki is quick and has a sinewy strength of his own, and their matches would be long and brutal were they real. Yet it is an old habit they fall into easily, as is Thor letting Loki win.

As Loki holds him down, Thor sees something change in Loki’s eyes in that moment: they flash through surprise, realization, and something darker in an instant. Loki’s hands slide to Thor’s chest, and his legs tighten around Thor’s hips. He leans down so his lips are against Thor’s ear. “Thor, _please_.”

Thor can’t help but shudder. “Loki, what --” He is overcome with a sudden desire that he hadn’t even known was lurking beneath the surface of his mind, Loki’s silvered tongue calling it forth with two simple words. He is too aware of Loki’s ridged skin, hidden only by a loincloth in the cool Jotunheim air; too much of it is pressed up against him.

“Relax, Thor. We are married, after all.”

Thor’s blush deepens, his face burning. He turns away. “I don’t know how --”

“Shh. I read it in a book once.” And Loki is kissing his neck, lips cool against his quickening pulse.

It is too much. He sits up, lifting Loki off him and shuffling as far as he can along the furs. He smooths down his clothing, trying desperately to hide the stirring between his legs. He must take a deep breath before he can meet Loki’s gaze. Loki looks hurt, and is perhaps trying to hide embarrassment.

Thor cannot take that look on Loki’s face. He moves back to Loki, taking his chin and pressing their lips together. The kiss is sweet, and starkly chaste after the previous passion. Thor lets it linger; Loki grins under it, and deepens it cautiously.

“Brother,” Loki moans softly into Thor’s mouth.

Thor pulls away again, rocked by a wave of uncertainty. He stands up and turns his back on Loki, and it is all he can do to keep from running back to the Bifrost.

\--

“Take me to Asgard,” Loki says lazily, tugging on Thor’s hair gently but insistently.

Thor sits on the floor, back against the chair Loki sits in, head resting comfortably against Loki’s knee as he plaits Thor’s hair. He had been nodding off, lulled by the flickering fire before him and Loki’s hands in his hair. His hands slide easily over Loki’s muscled calves, tracing the raised patterns lazily. It takes him a second to register the demand. “Hmm?”

“Take me to Asgard,” Loki repeats, leaning down to look Thor in the eyes. “We have explored every nook and cranny and snowbank in this forsaken realm. I wish to see the land where I would be queen.”

Thor isn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t even sure if Loki was allowed to leave Jotunheim, or whether he was allowed to take Loki to Asgard. He never thought to ask.

“Relax. If we get in trouble, I’ll talk us out of it,” Loki assures, sensing the uncertainty in Thor’s pause and running his long fingers through Thor’s hair comfortingly.

Thor is uncertain, but knows they will not get far into Asgard if they are unwanted, so he agrees. He tenses as the Bifrost swallows him whole, one hand wrapped protectively around Loki’s as infinite colors swirl between them. But upon their arrival, there are no shouts of alarm; it is merely the two of them and Heimdall, standing placidly over his sword.

“Welcome home, Prince Thor,” the Gatekeeper says. A beat, then: “Princess.”

Loki grins wide as Thor leads him out to the realm that will be theirs.

\--

Thor takes his brother to all the places that had made Loki’s eyes light up that first time Thor had told his brother of Asgard, all those years ago.

He takes him to the library, watching as Loki walks among the bookshelves, fingers pressed to the spines and jaw hanging open. Thor waits as Loki drags out books about magic and politics and history, reading Thor snippets in a low, excited voice.

When Loki has his fill, Thor takes him to the stables, where Loki eyes the horses with strange wonder. “We have none of these creatures on Jotunheim,” he says, hands out to the horse to test if it bites. “We are giants; we are our own beasts of burden.” When the horse only breathes through its great nostrils at Loki, he grins and pets it, giggling as he strokes its soft nose. Thor lifts him up into the saddle, getting on behind him.

There are no trees on Jotunheim, only ever ice and snow for miles, so Thor takes them down forest paths, watching with a smile as his brother drinks it in. Loki takes it well, reaching out to touch the bark of low-hanging branches. “I’ve read about them in books,” he tells Thor. “But they’re so... _green_.”

Thor plucks a leaf from a tree and puts it behind Loki’s ear. “It’s a good color for you,” he says with a smile, holding Loki gently around his waist, settling his hands over softly curving hips.

As the shadows grow long, they exit the forest through the long columns of trees that make up Idunn’s orchards. Thor helps Loki off the horse and spreads his cloak on the grass for them to sit on, plucking a plump yellow apple from one of the trees and shining it before handing it to his brother.  He knew he would get in trouble for it later, but he was feeling brave and wanted Loki to taste them; he would deal with the consequences when it came to that.

Loki’s eyes go wide as he turns it over in his hands, blinking. “Gold?” he asks, and Thor laughs.

“No, apples. You eat them,” he says, picking another one and biting into it. They are crunchy and juicy, a perfect mixture of sweet and tart meeting his tongue; their taste has changed since he was a child, he thinks, but then so has he.

Loki frowns at it. “Gold you can eat.” He sniffs it cautiously, then bites into it with tiny white teeth. His eyes widen again as he chews, then takes another bite in excitement. Thor cannot help but laugh heartily from where he lies on the cloak, taunting Loki with cries of “Magpie!” until his sides hurt, while Loki threatens to turn him into a slimy beast if he does not stop.

“Get me another?” Loki asks, spread out on Thor’s cloak and basking in the sunlight.

Thor shakes his head. “We are not supposed to take them at all. But you may finish mine,” and Thor offers the last of his apple to his brother. Loki takes it and finishes it with glee, as Thor relishes in his brother’s bright smile.

As Thor escorts him back to the Bifrost, Loki kisses him once, sweetly. “My thanks,” he says, and as he turns to go, a golden apple appears out of nowhere and Loki juggles it with a cocky grin.

\--

It takes a less than a second between Thor waking and Mjolnir flying into his hand. He is suddenly too awake and trying to comprehend what his senses are telling him. A cool body straddles his hips; early morning sunlight streams through curving, ridged horns. He hears the soft tinkling of gold against gold, and opens his eyes to a sight he hadn’t thought he’d ever see again.

Loki is decked out in a copy of the marital garb he had worn that first day Thor had seen him. The cloak is larger, but still matches Loki’s ice-blue skin; the paint across Loki’s eyes still matches his eyes exactly. He wears a red loincloth, tied loosely at his hips and draped delicately over a firm, flat stomach. Gold cooled from Loki’s skin presses against Thor’s naked body.

Thor had watched as Loki had grown up to become strong, smart, and witty to boot. But without him noticing, he had also become _devastatingly_ gorgeous. “ _Fuck_ ,” Thor whispers through a shaking breath, barely registering his hammer slipping through his fingers to land on the floor with a soft thud. His heart is pounding, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and his throat is suddenly dry, but he manages: “How did you get in here?”

“My secret,” Loki says through a grin. He squirms deliberately, grinding their hips together. Thor moans, totally unable to keep his raging arousal hidden.

Loki purrs happily. “A much better response than last time. Now, _husband_ ,” Loki whispers, unclasping his cloak from his shoulders and letting it drop carelessly. He leans in close, pulling Thor’s hands to rest on his hips, imploring them to match his slow rhythm as he grinds down again. “I’m asking nicely. _Please_ ,” he whines, as he bites Thor’s earlobe. Thor hisses and arches off the bed, and Loki chuckles.

Thor finds himself utterly unable to deny Loki, and wonders if he could pinpoint the exact moment when he fell so hopelessly in love. Later, he thinks he was doomed the moment he set eyes on the boy trying to be brave by his side.

\--

The throne room is filled to the brim with denizens of all the realms, come to swear fealty to their new king and queen. It is quite the ceremony, full of pomp and cheering. Odin and Frigga preside over it, passing their respective crowns onto their son and his spouse. The Allfather was choosing to abdicate rather than wait until his own death to hand over the throne; something about Thor being an arrogant sapling almost entirely unfit to rule. Thor no longer falls for his father’s good-natured jibes, but hears the sense behind them nonetheless.

The banquet that follows is a thing of legend. Golden plates are piled high with delicacies from each realm, and goblets overflow with the finest mead.

Thor notices as Loki tires; or, pretends to tire, and makes a show of it for Thor. He stands to go, throwing Thor a seductive look over his shoulder -- and runs headlong into Frigga. Frigga smiles, and something silent but meaningful passes between them. Thor remembers their wedding, suddenly, and how his mother smiled down at Loki; possibly it was the only smile Loki had seen that day, Thor thinks with shame. As Thor watches, the older queen nods in deference to Loki, then slowly places a hand over Loki’s abdomen, gestures careful and eyes on him as if he will spook and run away.

Thor will never forget how Loki’s eyes go wide, looking in disbelief from Frigga to Thor and back to Frigga. Thor cannot help but laugh heartily and place his arms around Loki’s shoulders, kissing him and leading him to their chambers for an entirely different kind of celebration.

He nuzzles his brother-wife as they take their leave of the banquet. “So does this mean I should be calling you a ‘she’ now, my queen?”

He is answered with a playful smack. “I can still turn you into a frog,” is Loki’s only response.

**Author's Note:**

> We owe a lot to [Small Things](http://archiveofourown.org/works/529373/chapters/937947) and [magic, lost and found](http://archiveofourown.org/works/418698/chapters/696549), and have borrowed some elements from both; please consider it our humble attempt at flattery.


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